


someone to hold

by jaeieio



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Death, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaeieio/pseuds/jaeieio
Summary: the light always bothered feitan but things always change
Relationships: Feitan/Shalnark (Hunter x Hunter)
Kudos: 49





	someone to hold

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this after reading a bunch of sad poetry so here's some semi sad feitan x shalnark lawl also this doesn't really follow any specific story line in the series so >:P

The light was never something that he was fond of. 

But then again there wasn’t much in this world that he loved. Perhaps love was simply too strong of a word but it wasn’t as if there was much use of it in his life. The endless cycle of murder and death around him only reminded him of that fact and yet watching the light leave their eyes ironically gave him life. Feitan supposed that it was the thrill of the kill and rush of excitement in unleashing the storm of emotion inside of his otherwise reserved facade that gave his life purpose. The rest of the Troupe could merely sit back and watch for all he cared.

Another thing he hated about the light was that it was too intense.

He wasn’t entirely sure what drew him to stay with the rest of the Spiders and not run the lonesome, bloody empire he once envisioned for himself sitting amongst Meteor City’s waste and looking up at dusty skies. The sun rarely showed itself and when it did it, he was only met with a suffocating heat that stole the breath from his lungs and made him burn with a desire to live, a feeling that he always found foreign. 

And yet, as per some phenomenon, Feitan found himself basking in his gentle warmth. A warmth that left soft kisses and silky touches in its wake. A warmth that consumed his mind like a man deprived of touch so that he wanted, no he craved it. Feitan needed his touch, needed his kind words, needed him. 

Maybe it wasn’t that he avoided the light, but rather, the light had not yet come.

Feitan didn’t notice much about Shalnark at first other than the gentle sway of golden strands beyond his reach and his tender eyes that always lingered on him for a millisecond too long. In hindsight, he probably should’ve expected that that gaze was not the warm embrace he once thought but rather pleading cinders that begged to be held.

Life after that became such a flurry of mindless orders and gore that Feitan couldn’t truly pinpoint the moment that he found himself within a different flurry, one of clothes being ripped off of one another and senseless words moaned out into a void of stars and lust. If the rest of the Troupe caught wind of the pair’s late nights in dirty motels and in each other, then neither Feitan or Shalnark noticed. It wouldn’t have mattered either way. Neither could recall a time where the thought of a legacy they left behind meant anything to them. When did anything other than themselves mean anything to them?

Maybe the light was something that he could get used to.

Like any other night, Feitan found himself trapped by Shalnark’s scorching gaze, as if the sun itself had manifested itself into the rough hands that left simmering prints in the trails that led between his thighs. With deep strokes that felt to him like sunlight was beaming on him through the scattered clouds, the stuttering of hips had parted the clouds and the sun had shown itself in its full glory. In that moment, like countless others, they had reached what seemed like heaven, though, the both of them knew that they could never dream about existing in such a place. 

In the still darkness of their shared room, under the chilling sheets of the bed, Feitan calmed the roaring waves in his mind and gazed at Shalnark whose quiet breathing caused the comforter to rise and fall at a calming pace. Feitan knew in his heart that they were damned from the beginning and that his mere existence now relied on stealing and cheap kills. But just once he wanted to be selfish. Just once he wanted to imagine what it would be like to live amongst the angels with his light by his side. Just once, Feitan wanted to experience love.

But the dark has always found a way to snuff out the light, of course.

Feitan should have trusted his heart at that moment and fled with his only joy. But how could he trust himself when all that he had was trust in the glimmering man beside him who smiled too brightly and who so foolishly strayed too far. Feitan should have tightened his grip on the others’ arm and ran away to somewhere that they only knew and that danger could never as much whisper in their ears through the wind. The night air was too thick with a blinding fog, the Spiders’ footsteps too loud in the quiet dirt streets of yet another unnamed shithole. But how could he leave this place when it reminded him so much of home? Feitan should have never let Shalnark leave him alone.

It was through panicked, strangled cries of a voice that once cried out only in ecstasy for him that Feitan found Shalnark, whose life only dared flickered on like a candle that had burned too brightly for too long. He wanted to believe that if only he had never split from him, if only he arrived at his side seconds earlier, if only they hadn’t been born into such a cruel world, that they could have been happy.

He supposed that this feeling of horror that clawed at him from the back of his throat is what it must have felt like for the endless amounts of people he has slaughtered himself. He supposed that maybe, for just a moment, he hated the sight and smell of blood flowing so calmly out of his lover like a tired river, searching hopelessly for an open sea. He hated the way that Shalnark smiled and held onto him like it was another late night with longing whispers being passed between ruffled sheets. But most of all he hated the way the sun rose on a new day as if his lover's own had come to an end. With glazed eyes that no longer shone with beauty and trembling fingers that caressed his own in a futile attempt to comfort him one last time, the once golden boy whispered a simple string of words that, to him, not even the most captivating of morning skies could ever hope to dull.

Feitan hated the light.


End file.
